In Situ
by allosaur777
Summary: Curiosity is one of the defining traits of humanity. Because of the Matrix, much of science must be re-proved (to make sure of what is true and what has been fabricated by machines). Scientists put their lives on the line in their quest for information.
1. Default Chapter

In Situ  
  
Chapter I  
  
Even after I learned the truth, about how we live two-hundred years into a future controlled by machines, I didn't lose my fascination with the past.  
  
Most trips into the Matrix have military motives; get in, get recruits, get out. Sure, I do that stuff when I have to, but most of my trips are for code to expand the server. I was a paleontologist (Dinosaur scientist) before getting un-plugged. I try to apply my skills in the matrix and the real world to de-cipher what the facts are about Dinosaurs, and what the machines have fabricated.  
  
Things had been going fairly well on this trip; I had been in Westminster, Colorado's College library for over an-hour-and-a-half with no disturbances. It was a good place to hide, and if necessary fight. The building was only two floors, but both were huge. The structure seemed to grow from a large central spiral staircase, which emphasized the size of the building with its open design. You could stand at its foot and see the ceiling through an intricate piece of modern art that hung from the ceiling on steel cables.  
  
I leaned in close to the computer screen I was at, concentrating on the conversation I was having in the new DML chat room:  
  
.b0nes32: So according to this paper, feathers are ontogenically biased? Where can I find a copy?  
  
tetanureabuff: I can give you the URL to the AMNH site where you can access the paper for free. Wait, I can fax it to you. Where are you at?  
  
b0nes32: The fax number at this library is 303-451-8220. Thanks.  
  
tetanuraebuff: On its way.  
  
A minute later, one of the librarians made her way over to me.  
  
"Sir? I believe this is the fax you requested."  
  
"Great," I said as I took it from her ", thank you."  
  
I folded the paper into my pocket and turned once again to the computer screen:  
  
tetanuraebuff: have you got it y  
  
The message had been cut off abruptly. Then another one popped up:  
  
@gent: tetanuraebuff has logged off- permanently. Thank you for the information rearding your location, Bones.  
  
"Information regarding my location.Crap! The FAX number!" I thought.  
  
Another librarian approached.  
  
"Your internet time has expired, sir. People are waiting, so I suggest you log-mphhgrlug!"  
  
The gun was resting against my temple before I could react.  
  
"Goodbye, Mr. Cotton," said the agent as he pulled back the hammer.  
  
I jerked away and fell backward in my chair as his finger tightened on the trigger, and the computer screen exploded in a shower of sparks. I thought ",That could have been my head!" as I threw the chair at him with my feet and rolled backward into a standing position.  
  
As I ran I whipped out my cell phone and yelled ", Operator! Get me a hard line!"  
  
The enemy was reacting quickly; agents were emerging everywhere. Men in black suits and sunglasses replaced college students, little kids, and library workers. The former librarians dropped their books and began pursuit.  
  
Coming up ahead of me was a large set of bookshelves. They stretched nearly wall to wall.  
  
If I went around, the agents behind me would have ample time to aim. If I jumped over, every agent in the building would have a clear shot at me.  
  
Decision made, I launched off the floor crossed my arms over my face. I hit the bookshelf at an insane speed, but on impact everything seemed to slow down, almost to a stop.  
  
I emerged into the first four-foot-wide isle, books preceding me, and giving me cover. I could see them gracefully opening themselves, making them appear to have wings. Some exploded into beautiful slow-motion swirling confetti as they received bullets intended for me.  
  
"Get your head in the game, Bones!" I told myself. Now was no time for distractions.  
  
Glancing at the two agents that were the source of the annoying bullets, I swung my legs around and did a bicycle kick, sending two of John R. Horner's books speeding toward their faces. I never cared much for Horner.  
  
My legs continued to move around to the front, and I planted them into the second bookshelf. Time woke from its nap with a start, and I rocketed off of the toppling structure. My body almost instantly punched through the high ceiling, leaving a convenient hole for me to see the shelves go down like dominoes.  
  
I landed softly, but spared no time to reminisce.  
  
"Operator?" I said as I sprinted for the edge of the roof.  
  
An agent ripped through the roof right in front of me, intentionally using his body as an obstacle to trip me and send me flying to the left, through the wall of the protruding roof access.  
  
I heard a crunch as I hit the second wall, inside of the roof access. I wasn't sure whether the sound came from the cement, or my bones. Probably a combination of both.  
  
I slid down the wall head first, and dinged my head on the railing on the way down. I flopped over and hit the floor painfully, in a cloud of cement dust.  
  
My powder-covered eyes opened to see my reflection in many sets of well- shined black shoes. 


	2. In Situ Chapter II

In Situ  
  
Chapter II  
  
BAM!  
  
My heart jumped into my throat with the sound.  
  
I un-curled from the fetal position, realizing that I had not just died. That wasn't exactly a relief.  
  
The shot, as it turned out, was to destroy the cell-phone that had skidded out of my grasp when I hit the floor.  
  
The agent who had fired the shot stooped down and was suddenly on top of me, lifting me slightly off the ground in a two-fisted lapel grab.  
  
He had put his nose about a half-inch from mine; I could see every pore in his digitally projected face. The sneer told me that he didn't like touching humans, with the lip curled and the nose scrunched like he smelled something awful.  
  
From my dual reflections in his sunglasses, I could see that I wasn't hiding my fear well.  
  
As if that mattered now.  
  
"Mr. Cotton," he hissed. "You are going to tell me something. And then you are going to die."  
  
He put emphasis on "die" and tightened his grip.  
  
"I have observed you many times, on your rebel 'missions'."  
  
"And?" I choked, in a pitiful attempt at defiance.  
  
"And what is your objective!? You make no attempts at finding recruits. You do not go to any militarily sensitive areas. You do nothing!"  
  
He paused, waiting for me to respond.  
  
I didn't.  
  
Instead, I trapped his hands where they where with my arm, and whipped my left leg up and around his head, to hook it over his shoulder.  
  
Using my newfound leverage, I flipped the agent over and let him receive his buddies' bullets.  
  
Snatching the gun from his pocket before he could turn back into whatever innocent civilian he had commandeered, I emptied the clip into two Agent's chests.  
  
As the clip fell out, I jumped off my back and kicked it so that it caught another one in the face.  
  
Guns are only projectile weapons to the creatively impaired; they can also be used to enhance your punching efficiency.  
  
Gripping it tightly by the handle, I served a nearby enemy a spear-hand to the chest. Correction: through the chest.  
  
Sensing an attack from behind, I quickly withdrew my arm from the Agent's chest and whipped the bloody gun behind me, shuriken style. I spun around just in time to see him dodge the gun, letting it fly into the wall behind him and take a chunk out of the cement.  
  
Once again, time slowed down to a stop. Jumping up to above the last Agent, I gripped his head between my feet. A quick jerk upward and I did a back flip, with his body trailing from my feet like a tail from a kite. I released him just before I landed, and he hit the cement wall like a limp rag-doll.  
  
I shuddered. What was I becoming? What kind of monster would do what I had just done?  
  
All the energy drained from my body as I realized that the bodies at my feet were no longer the evil machine programs. They were innocent people.  
  
Then, I began to know the meaning of fear. Not about death, but about after I die.  
  
"No time, Bones." I began regaining my composure.  
  
I drew my gaze away from the crumpled forms on the ground. For now, I would have to use the same advice I was given when I did my first simulated building jump: don't look down. 


End file.
